Sweet Raptured Life
by Aelia O'Hession
Summary: New York City is home to thousands of people each with their own story. Kitten Knight is an Orphanage girl. By a strange stroke of luck, the Newsies stumble upon her. Racetrack, in his infinite wisdom, decides that she needs new outlook on life.
1. The Beginning

**Sweet Raptured Life**

**Aelia O'Hession**

**A/N:** Just some basic information to keep in mind as you read. The story is starting after the strike, so about September-ish. The Orphanage is completely of my own creation. No such Orphanage ever existed in New York City in 1899. I do not own _Newsies, _and do not make any money off of what I present here.

**Chapter 1: The Beginning**

A young girl of about four years old with a head of strawberry blond hair and bright sea blue eyes wandered the lonely New York City streets. She had just barely escaped a fire that completely destroyed the apartment building where she had lived. As far as her four year old mind could understand, she was the only survivor of the entire blazing building. Her whole family; mother, father and baby sister were dead. Oddly enough, she felt no remorse or grief at this loss. Perhaps she was simply too young to understand or to become attached to her family.

A crisp fall breeze fluttered around the girl who now stood under a streetlight, clutching her sole possession; a small rag doll. Across the street, a door opened revealing an elderly woman. "Child, what are you doing?"

The little girl simply looked at the elderly woman helplessly.

With realization, the elderly woman softened. "Do you have no home?" The girl mutely nodded her head. "Come, you may live here now. I am Madame Whitefield. Welcome to the High Street Orphanage." She took the girls hand. "Do you have a name little one?"

The child shook her head. "Not one I know..." she squeaked out.

"Well," Madame Whitefield said decisively. "I shall have to give you one then. From now on, you shall be called Kitten, Kit for short, because you are sweet like a newborn kitten. Does that suit you?"

The little nodded her head. Thus, Kitten's life at the High Street Orphanage, Manhattan, New York City, began.

"Fiona, tell me anudder story 'bout da old knights, please?"

Fiona, a girl of about sixteen looked at her beggar. "Kit, yous hoid all da stories dat I know."

"Den tell me da one 'bout King Arthur again." At seven years old, Kitten was a persistent little thing, always delighting in a good story. Placing herself at Fiona's feet, clutching her small rag doll named Gwen in honor of Queen Gwenevere of Fiona's tales. Earnestly, she awaited Fiona's tale to begin.

Before Fiona could begin, Madame Whitefield walked in. "Enough; there'll be plenty of time for stores later. Kit, you must come for lessons now."

Reluctant to leave a good story behind, Kit got up and dubiously followed Madame; only after leaving Gwen in the care of Fiona. Since her arrival three years ago, Madame had begun teaching Kit how to read, write, do mathematics, and various in sundry things. As Madame had put it once, "None of my girls will go uneducated as long as I am Mistress of this orphanage."

Though Madame Whitefield imposed rules, they were not as strict as one thought. The girls were allowed to play as long as they finished their chores and did their school work. When they went out, they were to stay out of trouble and come home by curfew. Madame stressed the importance of the girls learning the ways of the streets on their own. She encouraged them to learn from their mistakes and to try new things. But never did the girls step inside a school classroom. The world was their classroom; learning to read from Fiona on city curbs with a paper, finding out where to stay away from and other such things. With all of this, no one knew where these girls were from; whether it be an alley, orphanage or townhouse.

Now, seated across from Madame Whitefield, Kit prepared for today's lesson.

"Kit, penmanship is today." Before Kit could groan in protest, Madame held up a hand. "It's tedious I know. I hated doing it when I was your age too, but look at my handwriting now." Indeed, as Kit looked at Madame's writing, she saw the graceful curves and loops. "You need to get better. I'll have you copy old records over so that they can be put in the files. Once your handwriting improves, I'll have you write records out for me, as my eyesight is beginning to fail."

"But why me?"

"Someday I'll be gone and someone will need to know how this place runs."

"Wha' 'bout Fiona?"

"By the time I'm gone, Fiona will be away from here. Possibly married even. Now, enough of this." Madame produced a blank ledger and old records for Kit to start copying.

For the next several years, Kit grew up in the happy environment of the High Street Orphanage. She had to grow out of childhood quickly because the older girls were beginning to leave. Before Fiona left, she made sure that Kit had every single one of her stories committed to memory. Kit wept when Fiona left, but was comforted by the fact that Fiona said that she was not leaving the city and would try and write. After Fiona, Kit was the eldest. Now her responsibilities expanded to caring for the young girls just as Fiona had done. She continued doing records and a wide range of household work, as Madame grew older.

Despite all the work Kit now had to do at the age of ten, she never once complained or lost her inner child. It shone through when she told the girls the same stories of knights, Kings, Queens and chivalry that Fiona had told her so long ago. Her inner child came out when Kit made a game of household chores so that they would get done faster. She even took them out into the city for their street education as Missy had done so often. It was an awful lot to ask of a ten year old.

Though there was an air of happiness, a dark cloud loomed in the shadows. Madame Whitefield was growing ill, and only Kitten knew at this point. Everyday she got worse, despite Kit's best efforts to cure her.

Late one night, when the doctor was visiting and Kit sat by Madame's bedside, she spoke her final thoughts.

"Kitten, come close child. You always were a sweet one. All these years you've been like a granddaughter to me. It's a shame I never got around to adopting you. All those times you could have run away and you never did..." Madame gave a sharp cough that brought up blood.

"Madame, please don't talk anymore..." Kit whispered as she stoked Madame's hand. That same white, slightly gnarled with age hand that had patiently taught her how to write with the same curves and loops, read and do mathematics.

"No, listen to me. I must say this. You must hear this because you have been her the longest of the remaining girls. A new Mistress will be here in a few days. Help her learn our ways. I pray that she will be kind to you all. Keep the girls in line and give them my love... don't forget me..." Another sharp cough came. "Farewell my dear Kitten..." and Madame Bridget Whitefield breathed her last.

There was nothing that could describe Kit's sorrow and despair. Looking at the small calendar, she noticed the date; June 21st, Midsummer. Then a harsh realization hit Kit hard in the face; today was her twelfth birthday. Oh what a cruel gift to loose the one person who ever cared for you in your entire life. Gravely, she went out to the sitting room where all the orphanage girls sat, awaiting the news.

Trying her hardest not to cry or let her voice crack, Kit addressed them all. "Madame has died. She gives you all her love and hopes that we will never forget her." Kit spoke plainly, feeling it would shame Madame's good memory to flit around the truth or soften the blow with flowery words. Madame had taught Kit that the best thing is to speak simply and tell the truth. Better to know the painful truth than live in a sugary lie.

Surprisingly, the girls took it rather well. They too were students of Madame, though they had not experienced all the wisdom she knew. Now it was Kit's turn to impart that sacred wisdom. There was no doubt that like Kit, they would all go off to their private corners and weep. But for now, their strength held.

"Wha' do we's do now?" asked a girl named Tricks. She was four years younger than Kitten, but had a level head. Despite all of the practical jokes and tricks she played on everyone.

"Stay strong an' wait fer da new Mistress," Kit replied.

Who knew that such young girls could command themselves like young women? That was due to Madame Whitefield's teaching. It was augmented by the fact that they were not confined to the Orphanage like some other Orphanage kids they knew.

**1.1.1.**

It was the third day of Madame Ashworth's rule at the High Street Orphanage. Every morning at breakfast, she insisted in having attendance taken.

"Jessica Avery?"

"Heah."

"Rachel Collins?"

Ticks lifted her head of brown hair. "Yeah?"

Madame's head snapped towards Tricks' "You will respond with 'Here' just like the rest of us."

"Heah," Tricks muttered.

"Melody Edwards?"

A small ten year old named Song lifted her head of auburn curls and stared at Madame Ashworth with bright emerald eyes. "Heah" she practically sang. Her voice was perfect for singing.

Several more names were read off before she called "Ellen Jones?"

Sun jumped up, her blond hair glowing. Her hazel eyes glistened with merriment as she proudly announced, "Heah"

"Erin Jones?"

Sun's twin sister Moon tilted her head almost sarcastically. "Heah," she said dryly. One could have sworn that they were not twins. The fourteen year old twins looked nothing alike. The only thing that was similar between them was their birthday, mother and father. Moon's hair was raven black and straight as anything. Her grey eyes always held a dreamy look to them.

Madame Ashworth's rolled her eyes before reading off the next name, "Kitten Knight?"

Kit merely waved a hand before burying her nose in today's paper. Before Madame had awoken, Kit had gone out and bought it from a Newsie.

Madame Ashworth's piercing voice interrupted Kit's reading. "Young lady, would you kindly vocalize your presence?"

Ignoring Madame, Kit kept her nose in the paper. Distantly, she heard the scrape of chair legs on the wooden floor as Madame rose from her seat at the head of the table and walked towards her.

"Kindly follow me to my office," she demanded before grabbing Kit's ear.

The girls watched in mute terror as Madame dragged Kit away.

"Oh wha's she gonna do?" Song trilled nervously.

As was her duty as the next oldest, Tricks brought order to the group. "Hush; yous may as well eat 'er ya won't be eaten 'til supper."

"But, wha' 'bout Kit?" Sun begged.

"She'll be a'ight. She's a tough one. Don' yous ferget how long she's been heah."

Humbled, everyone stopped worrying. They all went back to eat their breakfast. Each wrestled with thoughts, but kept them silent.

Meanwhile, Madame was dealing with Kit in her office.

"I can't believe the blatant disrespect that you showed out there! Even now you stand there with cold, hard eyes. I am Mistress here and you will do as I say. Things are going to start changing around here, and you have yourself to blame. Firstly, there will be no more of your little romps around the city with the girls. Secondly, your little story telling will end along with those silly games you play. You will work for and obey me because I am the Mistress of this orphanage!"

Kit stared at Madame Ashworth for a moment, selecting a few choice words to share. Deliberately, she dropped the low class accent in favor of the more educated speech the former Mistress had taught her. "You will never be half the Mistress Madame Whitefield was. You besmirch her good memory with your filth! Right now, while you stand there imposing new rules, you are depraving this orphanage of the very ideals that it was founded upon. It is a safe-house for homeless girls so they don't have to live in the streets and become ignorant fools! An ignorant fool like yourself!"

Madame Ashworth narrowed her dark eyes. "Shut your mouth you ungrateful, sniveling wretch! Our next order of business is to remove this bold and independent streak of yours." From her desk drawer she removed a leather whip with little metal barbs on it. "Now, remove your shirt and stand facing the wall. That's a good girl."

While the whip bit into Kit's back, the whole orphanage could hear Madame's triumphant laugh, coupled with Kit's soft whimpers of pain. "Here's how Kit got her last name," girls whispered in corners. "The old Mistress knew that Kit was strong as the knights of the tales that are told. Never will she admit how much she hurts, it's not her way." Soon, the floor was drenched in Kit's bright, warm blood. Kit's knees buckled beneath her from fatigue and she passed out in the pool of warm blood. Madame stood over Kit's body, laughing.

**1.1.1.**

"Ahhhhhh!" Kit's eyes flew open as she awoke.

In the bunk beside her, Tricks asked sleepily, "Kit, wha's wrong?"

"I's jus' relived me first few yeahs here at da Orphanage. Madame Whitefield's death, Madame Ashworth's first week heah, and da foist time she beat me."

"Wha' a lovely dream. It's alright now. Now get back ta sleep." Without any further comments, Tricks rolled over and fell asleep again. For the rest of the night, Kit slept fitfully, fervently wishing that one day she could be free of this living nightmare.


	2. Give Me a Reason

Chapter 2: Give Me a Reason  
  
A/N: Not having casing call, sorry. Well, enjoy! Please review!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was the morning after Kit's dream turned nightmare and Madame Ashworth rewarded everyone with chores on the brilliant summer day. The younger ones including Song, who was now nine, and Sun and Moon who were both now seven, were told to wash the bed linens and clothes. Kit and Tricks were told to scrub the Orphanage from top to bottom.  
  
The two were currently scrubbing the bedroom hallway when Tricks ventured a question.  
  
"Kit, why did yous dream 'bout yer foist few yeahs heah?"  
  
Kit sat back on her heels before answering. "Taday's me sixteenth boithday. It's kinda a recurrin' dream, if ya follow."  
  
"Yup, I's followin'..."  
  
Any further comment Tricks could have made was silenced my Madame's whip lashing down on her back. "Shut up before you get more!"  
  
Obediently, Tricks and Kit went back to work. For the next hour, Madame stood over them, making sure they worked without a single word. When the younger girls downstairs erupted in laughter, Madame flew away to deal with them.  
  
As the young girls' whimpers and sometimes screams of pain reached Kit's ears, she buried her face in her knees which were hugged close to her chest. She hated hearing the sounds of pain. It brought back dark things from her past. Things no one knew; things no one would ever know.  
  
"Kit... oh Kit," Tricks pleaded. "Madame's comin'; yous gotta get ta woik."  
  
Vaguely Tricks' words were heard by Kit. Numbly she went back to scrubbing the floor.  
  
"Girls," Madame snapped.  
  
Tricks and Kit stood.  
  
"I'm leaving for the day," Madame continued. "When I get back, I want this shit hole spotless of your filth." She picked up her small suitcase. Then, as if remembering something, she turned around again. "Oh, and Kitten; none of your games. If I get word that you've disobeyed me, I will make you so miserable that you will wish you had died with you beloved Madame Whitefield. You understand me?"  
  
"Yes Madame," Kit mumbled.  
  
Without another word, Madame swept out of the High Street Orphanage.  
  
Once Madame was out of sight, Kit ran to tend to the girls. With the tenderness of a mother, Kit cleaned their wounds and comforted them. Setting them on a bed, she got an idea. Madame was gone, they were allowed a bit of fun.  
  
"Madame said dat dis place hasta be clean by da time she gets back. So dis goes quicker, let's play a game." At the sound of the word game, the girls picked their tearstained faces up. "Pretend yous da ladies at Camelot an' yous gotta get ready fer da knights ta come home from battle."  
  
Kit sat back and watched as their weepy eyes turned bright with excitement. Song jumped up and said, "I's got Lancelot"  
  
Moon rose before quietly stating, "Gawain's mine." She had always loved hearing about the boisterous Orkney man.  
  
Not wanting to be out done, Sun stood up. "Well, I's gonna replace Gwenevere an' take King Arthur his-self!"  
  
As everyone else proclaimed their knight in shining armor, they all ran off to do their chores, the beating forgotten.  
  
Tricks and Kit returned to their scrubbing. The atmosphere was lighter now that the dark shadow of Madame was gone. They were able to talk freely without fear of a beating. Sadly, Kit was reminded of the time when Madame Whitefield was Mistress and Fiona always started these games. Madame would have even baked a chocolate cake for Kit as the whole orphanage sang 'Happy Birthday.'  
  
Tricks watched as Kit's gaze became nostalgic. "Why do ya stay 'round heah?" she questioned.  
  
"I was given a responsibility," Kit said quickly.  
  
"I don' undahstand," Tricks said.  
  
Sighing, Kit turned to the girl she considered her best friend. "Madame Whitefield gave me da responsibility a takin' care a dis Orphanage an' da goils inside a it."  
  
"Yous don' belong heah though."  
  
"Den yous gimme a reason ta leave," Kit retorted.  
  
"Madame an' yer life! Ya know dat Madame hates ya 'cuz yous can remembah wha' dis Orphanage used ta be like a'fore she came. Yer too good fer dis place."  
  
"But I's can't jus' leave da goils... dey need ta be safe..."  
  
Tricks watched Kit closely. There was something in Kit's eyes that told her that the entire truth was not being told. Carefully Tricks asked, "Kit, wha' happened dat makes you like dis?"  
  
"Like wha'?" Kit snapped crossly.  
  
"All protective an' mudderly like. Ya act a though dese goils an' dis Orphanage were da only life yous know."  
  
Kit was silent.  
  
"C'mon, yous can tell me," Tricks prompted.  
  
"Dey are da only life I know. I's lived in dis Orphanage fer neah twelve yeahs now."  
  
"How's does dat..."  
  
"Madame Whitefield took me in when I was four. She taught me how to care again. At four I was da coldest t'ing ya evah met. Den, when I was twelve, I had ta grow up 'cuz Madame died an' I was da oldest. Sure Fiona took us out in da streets, but we nevah knew how ta survive in a cruel home. We could deal wid change, but it wasn't enough."  
  
Tricks sat speechless. She hated to admit it, but Kit was right. When Song, Sun, Moon and even herself came, they were too young to understand the changes that were taking place. Even now at twelve years old, and having lived in the Orphanage for a few years now, Tricks did not understand what kind of life Kit had lived under Madame Whitefield. Now Kit had to deal with the changes that were thrust upon her and the sadness of the past. Not an easy thing to do. No wonder she was so close but yet so detached. "She's prob'ly waitin' fer her day ta die" Tricks thought.  
  
The day dragged on, only the little girls' providing any happiness. When tricks watched Sun, Moon and Song she saw that they were tougher then Kit because they had lived with Madame Ashworth longer than anything else.  
  
But yet, that was not the whole truth. They may be stronger physically, but with mental and emotional strength, Kit was the better one. She felt so much, but never showed her true feelings. She always had the strong face on so she could help others make it through the day.  
  
"C'mon goils, let's go out ta supper." Kit's voice carried over the din of chattering girls. Her idea was met with enthusiasm. Without her asking, they all hurried off to get cleaned up.  
  
Once on the streets, Kitten's attitude seemed to change. She became freer, like a great weight had been lifted off of her. She laughed and chased the girls down the street. One could have sworn that she was either their mother or older sister.  
  
The original plan of going to Tibby's had to be altered due to the large amount of Newsies inside. From the looks of things, they were holding a massive poker game. "Guess we's can't do dat. Lemme take yous ta Fitzy's Pub. It's just as good as Tibby's, maybe even bettah."  
  
After eating a wonderful meal to make up for all the meals the girls never got, Kit brought everyone home. The High Street Orphanage was just around the corner when they ran into a problem.  
  
That problem being the Delancy Brothers.  
  
"Where ya goin' sweet face?" Oscar asked.  
  
Kit said nothing and kept walking. She drew the younger girls closer to her as they went.  
  
"C'mon honey, come wid us," Morris said as he backed Kit into a wall.  
  
Now thoroughly frightened, the young girls clung to Kit's pants. "Go to Tricks," she said quietly. One by one the girls drew away and bolted for tricks.  
  
"Now we get ta have some fun..." Oscar breathed.  
  
"Wouldn't do dat if I's were yous," a Newsie in a striped vest quipped.  
  
"What ya gonna do 'bout it Racetrack?" Oscar spat.  
  
"It ain't wha' he's gonna do, it's wha' we's all gonna do," another Newsie chimed in. He was wearing a red bandana with a cowboy hat sitting jauntily on his head.  
  
The group of Newsies behind Racetrack and Jack drew forward. Oscar held onto Kit as Morris went forward to meet the Newsies. Sensing a fight, Kit screamed, "Tricks, get dem home!"  
  
Tricks took off, knowing better than to stick around against Kit's wishes. The minute Tricks turned the corner, the fight broke out. Knowing it would not do her any good to just stand there, Kit fought her way out of Oscar's grip. Landing a solid punch on his face, she bolted down the street. He Newsies finished off Oscar and Morris before running after Kit.  
  
"Hold up dere," the one with the bandana called. Kit stopped and leaned against a streetlight.  
  
"Wha'daya want?" Kit asked.  
  
"Foist, yer name."  
  
Kit, an' yers is...?"  
  
"Jack Kelly or Cowboy if ya want. Wha' ya doin' out wid those lil' goils?"  
  
"We's were comin' home from supper. And it's yer concern why"  
  
"Cuz yer in Manhattan territory, an' we's don' like da Delancy brudders ta hoit anyone. If dat's an acceptable answer ta ya?'  
  
"Yup, now I's gotta get home."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"High Street Orphanage."  
  
Jack motioned to three of his Newsies. "Race, Mush, Blink, get da lady home. I's gotta few t'ings ta finish. Night Kit."  
  
With his 'commands done', Jack walked off, leaving Kit with Race, Mush, and Blink. Oddly enough, they took her home, not once asking questions. "Heah ya are den," the one called Racetrack said. With that, they left Kit standing at the front door of the High Street Orphanage. Not knowing what to do, she gave a quiet "T'anks" before she walked in. To her retreating back, Race, Mush and Blink waved goodbye. 


	3. A Little Discovery

Chapter 3: A Little Discovery  
  
A/N: Since I have forgotten it on the past two chaps, here it is; the disclaimer. "I don't own Newsies, (as much as I wish I did) and I don't have any money so don't sue." There, that's over and done with now. On to the fic!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Kit turned around and shut the door behind her, firmly bolting it. When she turned around again, Ticks stood at the foot of the stairs, shooting a questioning glance.  
  
"Kit, wha' da hell jus' happened?" she demanded.  
  
Shaking her head, Kit replied, "I's got no clue." Tucking a stray lock of her strawberry blond hair behind her ear, Kit shoved her way past Tricks. She walked up to the room that she and Tricks shared, pulled off her clothes, slipped into a nightshirt and proceeded to crawl into her respective bunk. She had no desire to speak to anyone at the moment. Tricks, in her more than unnatural wisdom, sensed this and went to bunk with Song and the twins for the night. Besides, the younger girls were in need of a stable friend at the moment.  
  
Staring at the moldy ceiling, Kit tried to make sense of everything. "Who da hell were dose guys?" Vaguely she could recall faces, and kind faces at that, but no names came. She figured that they were insignificant, considering that they were only helping because she was on their territory. But why then did they prey on her mind? There was some feeling that they gave her that she had not felt in a long time.  
  
What was the elusive feeling? Well, to narrow things down, it was quite the opposite feeling that the Delancy's had given her. She knew that feeling all too well. They gave her the feeling of worry and fright that the past would be repeated. That was not something she wanted to think about at the moment. But what about the feeling from the Newsies? It certainly was not love, but something closely related to it. Then, it slowly came to her. It was a feeling of safety and comfort. That same feeling had been lying dormant for the past couple of years in the Orphanage. Madame Ashworth practically killed the feeling when she came.  
  
"Den why da hell am I's getting' it from Newsies? I don' know dem! Aw hell, dis ain't gonna be good." Kit continued to ponder this unusual turn of events until early in the morning.  
  
Kitten was rudely awoken form her precious fifteen minutes of sleep by Madame's piercing screech. "Girls, get down here now!"  
  
So much for yesterday.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Currently, the Manhattan Newsies were sitting in Bryan Denton's office. They were trying to figure out what the High Street Orphanage was and why that had never heard of it before.  
  
Denton was looking at each Newsie in turn growing more confused by the minute. "Wait, hold on a second. Let me get a few things straight. Last night you boys came across a group of girls ranging from about six to sixteen?"  
  
"Dat's wha' we's been sayin' fer da past ten minutes!" Mush exclaimed looking slightly flustered like only he could.  
  
"And they were bring harassed by the Delancys?"  
  
Blink rolled his good eye. "Yep."  
  
"Then the oldest, Kit did you say, told another to get the rest away?" Denton looked at the Newsies who were nodding their heads in varying degrees of anguished agreement. "So, after a fight Race, Blink, and Mush walked her home to an Orphanage that you swear you've never seen or heard of before?"  
  
Now, Racetrack is not the most patient of men. While waiting for Denton to shut his mouth, Race had burned through his cigar and was now searching for another one. Hell, he would settle for a pack of cigarettes at this point. Noticing that Denton had indeed stopped talking for the moment, Race ceased his search and seized the opportunity to get his few words in.  
  
"Denton, I's been a Newsie in dis city fer longer den anyone. I know dis entire city top ta bottom. Never have I hoid a da High Street Orphanage. Dat was, until las' night. Dere it was, big as life an' da goil walked inta it like any normal person would a walked inta a buildin'."  
  
"So, what do you boys want me to do?"  
  
"We want yous ta find out anythin' 'bout dis place." Jack leaned forward as he spoke. "It'd look a bit fishy if a bunch a Newsies was lookin' fer stuff 'bout a goil's lodgin's."  
  
Sitting back and sighing, Denton thought. Finally he spoke. "Give me an hour."  
  
He left and the Newsies settled down to a nice, civil game of poker. However, any game of poker played while Race was there was hardly ever nice or civil. It usually ended up being a cut-throat game with lots of black eyes.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
One by one the girls came down the stairs, each dressed as they usually did. The one good thing about the orphanage was that there was no established dress code. All of the girls, with the exception of Song and Sun, dressed like guys. Only Song and Sun felt the need to assert their femininity.  
  
Madame looked them all over with a look of apparent disgust as they took their places for breakfast. The morning meal usually consisted of rusty water, moldy bread and some form of slop which was supposed to be oatmeal. "You are a despicable bunch. Well, at least you had the sense to finish the cleaning I left you. I guess that means that you deserve a day off. Kitten, after breakfast you will see me in my office."  
  
"Yes Madame," Kitten replied quietly before returning to her breakfast that was making her stomach flip cartwheels. She knew what was coming. Madame probably found out that Kit had indulged in her games with the girls again. Or she had found out that she had taken the girls into the city for a decent supper. There were hundreds of reasons that Madame could find or make up to punish Kit for.  
  
Faster than usual, breakfast ended. The little dreamer and stoic Moon patted Kit's leg gravely before she joined her friends near Tricks.  
  
"Park," Tricks mouthed to Kit before she led the girls away for the day.  
  
Inside Madame's office, Kit pace the familiar floor. That all too familiar wooden floor that told faint tales of Kit's beating since she was twelve. Madame Ashworth had gotten rid of the beautiful carpets that Madame Whitefield once had in there. She was afraid that Kit's blood would stain the carpets beyond repair.  
  
"Well Kitten, let's have a little chat; shall we? Just remember that any wrong move earns you ten lashes."  
  
"Yes Madame."  
  
"Out delightful neighbor Mrs. Fisk says that she saw you in the company of Newsboys last night. Is this true?"  
  
There was no point in lying. Mrs. Fisk was always watching everyone that passed by her window. This was not something that Kit could easily and quickly get out of. "Yes Madame."  
  
"She also tells me that she saw you leaning against a streetlight acting like a whore to the aforementioned Newsboys. Is this true?"  
  
How could Madame even think such a thing? Kit was in no way shape or form a whore; nor did she ever act like one. Sure her chest was slightly unnaturally large for her age, but she usually hid that fact under a lager men's shirt. "No Madame, it's not true."  
  
As predicted, Madame did not believe it a single bit. She rewarded Kit with ten harsh lashes on her back.  
  
"Now, tell me the truth like a good girl," Madame cooed.  
  
"I am. I was leanin' against da streetlight cuz we's was runnin' from..." Kit paused, trying to think of a plausible reason for running with a bunch of Newsies.  
  
The, the morning's paper was bought in by Tricks. The headline gave Kit the answer she needed.  
  
"We's was runnin' from da slum riot."  
  
Madame glanced at the paper to check out Kit's story. Kit's luck held; the riot had taken place in a nearby slum. "Fine then, you may leave." Then Madame's eyes grew dark with a hidden purpose. "But not without a few lashes for good measure." She stepped forward and pulled off Kit's shirt. The heavy leather whip bit into Kit's back as Madame proceeded to let her fury at the world out on Kit.  
  
For some unknown reason, it was Tricks' day for saving Kit. This time she walked into Madame's office with a newspaper reporter.  
  
"Madame, dis reporter's heah ta talk witchou."  
  
Madame's head snapped up as she shoved Kit away. "I'm terribly sorry that you had to see that Mr....?"  
  
"Denton; I'm from the New York Sun. I'm doing a piece on Lodging Houses and Orphanages and I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions."  
  
"But of course!" Madame said in a sickly sweet voice. "Dun along now girls."  
  
Kit and Tricks needed no second bidding. They ran out of there as quickly as they could.  
  
"Da lady's off her rocker!" Tricks remarked to Kit as they sat around Central Park. Tricks was trying to tend Kit's wounds but Kit was having none of it. She shoved Tricks' care aside, saying that it was no big deal and that it did not hurt all that much.  
  
"Enough, I's gonna be fine. Jus' enjoy da day off a'fore we's gotta go back tad a bloody Orphanage." And enjoy they did. They created a day to remember because they knew they would not have another one for a long while.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
After his 'meeting' with Madame Ashworth, Denton headed straight back to his office. He opened the door to find the boys in a very intense poker game. One that Racetrack was winning, naturally.  
  
"Read 'em an' weep boys," Race said as he laid down his cards.  
  
"Damn it!" Jack burst out. Race's royal flush definitely beat his pitiful pair of tens.  
  
Blink simply glared at the Italian gambler who cockily gathered his winnings from the center of the table. Mush sympathetically patted Blink's shoulder. Mush never played poker; he was pitiful at it. He had no poker face what so ever and he could not lie to save his life. So he was there simply for moral support; usually reserved for Blink only.  
  
"Hey boys," Denton called. "I hate to bring you out of your poker game but I found out what you wanted. Apparently there are some rather interesting things to be said about the High Street Orphanage."  
  
"Do tell," Jack said.  
  
"It's run by a Madame Ashworth who took over after the previous owner died. Let me tell you, this lady's off her rocker. The place is run down beyond recognition and she makes the girls work like slaves. The poor girls seem starved of a good meal and they almost seem to avoid outside contact. Oh, and get this. She beats the girls and then acts as if it were nothing. She told me that it was to "improve morale and establish a sense of loyalty" or some other bit of bullshit like that." Denton paused for a moment recalling his visit to the High Street Orphanage. "What did this Kit of yours look like?"  
  
The Newsies thought about it for a moment. Then, Race finally came up with a description that seemed reasonable to what they saw of her last night. "'Bout my height, pale an' thin, long, bright, strawberry blond hair. Why?"  
  
"Because I had the wonderful experience of walking in on the Mistress while she was beating Kit. The poor girl was a mess! It looked as though this had been happening for many years by the look of the scarred back."  
  
This news worried the Newsies. Now, they were not the type to go around saving Orphanage girls from disaster, but they were disturbed by it nonetheless. They felt as though something should be done, but that something was unclear. They walked out of Denton's office with a feeling of dread and apprehension.  
  
Passing Central Park, Jack recognized Kit's shock of strawberry blond hair lying in the grass. "Wha' do ya t'ink guys?"  
  
"We's gotta do somethin'," Race said. "Might as well start by getting' ta know her an' her goils."  
  
With a plan in mind, the Manhattan Newsies walked into Central Park. While their mission was noble, they had no idea if it would even work. Here's hoping fir the best.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: I know this wasn't the best chapter, but please read and review. It'll get better I promise! Thanks so much! 


	4. An Act of Kindness

Chapter 4: An Act of Kindness  
  
A/N: This is for Alex, the only one who responded to my casting call. Here you go hun!  
  
Jack and his Newsies casually made their way across Central Park. Before them, Kit and her girls were lying on the grass, taking advantage of the warm September day. As they got closer, the Newsies could hear Kit telling a story.  
  
"...now dat Arthur had become da King a Britain, everyone was willin' ta proclaim dere loyalty. His closest friends formed a fellowship a knights, willin' ta defend dere country, dere king, an' eachudder..."  
  
While the Manhattan Newsies were standing a short distance away, they noticed David, Les, and Sarah walking towards them. David had to laugh as he watched Les sit down to listen to Kit's story.  
  
"You guys having story-time now?"  
  
Blink snorted and Jack simply patted Dave's shoulder. Race, in his infinite wisdom, immediately jumped on the chance to be a smart-ass. "Yeah Davey, we's gettin' story time."  
  
Jack whapped Race on the head before giving David a reasonable answer. "Ya see dat goil?" Dave nodded. "She an' dose goils is livin' in an Orphanage wid a crazy old bat."  
  
David looked at Jack incredulously. "Why all of this concern for one Orphanage goil?"  
  
Wreathed in a cloud of cigar smoke, Race answered. "We ain't real sure, but Denton told us some stuff dat'd make yer head spin. She's worse off den some a da street kids we know..."  
  
While she was telling her story, Kit became aware of the Newsies standing nearby. She caught most of what they had said, despite the noise of Central Park. It annoyed her to hear them talking about her as though she was some poor helpless girl. Standing up, she walked over to where the Newsies stood.  
  
"Do ya mind not talkin' 'bout me?" she asked, a hard, annoyed edge to her voice.  
  
The Newsies jumped and Race dropped his precious cigar. They were not expecting her to come and talk to them.  
  
"I'll ask again," Kit said impatiently, "Do ya mind?"  
  
"You heard what was said?" David questioned.  
  
"Every word a it. Lemme tell yous somethin'. Me an' me goils ain't helpless. We's been livin' in dat Orphanage all our lives. So Madame's a bit off; we deal wid her."  
  
Mush looked at hurt. "But, it ain't safe..."  
  
Kit cast an amused gaze over all of the Newsies that were there. "An' since when do a bunch a Newsies care fer a bunch a Orphanage goils?"  
  
"Since dey found out dat Madame is a crazy old bat." Tricks had come up beside Kit, realizing what they were talking about.  
  
"An' dey learned dis how?"  
  
"You remember dat reporter who I brought in while Madame was beatin' ya?"  
  
Kit caught Tricks' train of thought. "So den aftah dey met me da udder night, dey talked ta day guy ta find out stuff?"  
  
"Exactly," Race answered. "We's only asked cuz we's nevah hoid or seen da High Street Orphanage. Natural curiosity..."  
  
"Shut it Race," Jack warned. "Now listen heah. We's only offerin' our um... support an' friendship."  
  
Kit and Tricks eyed Jack and his Newsies. They could not believe these guys. Don't they listen to reason?  
  
"Thanks, but no thanks," Kit managed to say at last.  
  
Race laughed. "We don' take no fer an offer an' either."  
  
Annoyed with the entire situation, Kit rounded up her girls. Walking home, she muttered, "Bloody Newsies."  
  
Always a pessimist, Skittery said, "Dat went well."  
  
Race pushed at Skittery's face. "Do yous evah t'ink a happy thought?"  
  
Standing quietly, Sarah had observed the whole scene. She had watched how gently Kit cared for her girls and she saw how she willingly invited other children to listen to her story. Sarah had also noticed Kit's other behavior; she was extremely independent, but also dependent at the same time. Tiring of the Newsies speculation, Sarah spoke up.  
  
"She blew you off because of her independence and hr desire to protect her girls."  
  
"But wouldn't we's be helpin' by gettin' ta know dem?" Jack was baffled by Sarah's surprisingly simple logic.  
  
David began to understand what Sarah was getting at. "Perhaps their Mistress will punish them if she finds out. Cruel punishment for going against a Mistress' rules is common."  
  
Jack looked at the Mouth. "An' yous know dis why?"  
  
"I had to do a paper on contemporary society for school. I choose to do Orphanage life because the strike had brought a bunch of Orphanage kids..."  
  
"Alright, enough," Race interrupted. "We's don' need yer life story."  
  
"Well, dere's only one way to figure dis t'ing out." As Jack thought, he paced while absently running his fingers though his hair. "We's just gotta keep tryin'. Maybe dey'll warm up ta us."  
  
His words were actually quite prophetic.  
  
"Does damn persistent lil' bastards!"  
  
Every morning after Kit had met the Newsies in Central Park, one of them could be found out front of the Orphanage selling. The slight fact that she only read the World made it impossible for her not to talk to one of them.  
  
After crawling out of bed and dressing, Kit made her way downstairs. She carefully walked on the creaky floorboards, trying not to wake Madame. If Madame knew she was wake, all hell would have broken loose on a whim.  
  
Walking out of the front door, Kit was bombarded with a gust of cold bitter wind. Affixing a scowl on her face, she walked over to today's Newsie: Mush.  
  
When Mush caught sight of Kit, his trademark smile appeared on his face. The bitter cold seemed to have no affect on him whatsoever.  
  
"Well good mornin' Kit!" he beamed.  
  
"Jus' gimme da damn pape," Kit chattered while flipping him a penny. "Why da hell's it so cold? It's only November!"  
  
Mush patiently listened to Kit's rant. "Jus' keep smilin'!"  
  
Distantly, Madame's voice rang out. "Kitten Knight, where the hell are you?!"  
  
Grabbing her pape, Kit ran off to face certain doom.  
  
Kit bolted into the room where Madame stood with the rest of the girls. Everyone of the girls wore a look of absolute sympathy.  
  
"Where the hell have you been?" Madame snapped.  
  
"Takin' out da trash..."  
  
Before Kit could finish, Madame stepped forward and belted Kit across the face. "I've had enough of you. I don't even know why you're here anymore. You're worthless, and a slut and you can't follow simple rules. You should have died with your precious Madame Whitefield." With a final blow that sent Kit sprawling across the floor, Madame stormed out, slamming the door behind her.  
  
In the corner, Sun nervously paced while Moon gazed around with her level eyes trying to understand what had happened. Song, under Tricks' orders, had gone to get a basin of warm water, ice and cloths.  
  
Walking over to where her best friend lay, tricks shook her head in wonderment. Never before had Madame made a public display of punishment. "Kit, come on, get up."  
  
Kit did not move. Nor did she make any sound of recognition.  
  
"Kit... Kit..." Tricks shook Kit's shoulder. "Kit, ya can't leave me like dis..."  
  
Mush, who had witnessed Madame's flight from the Orphanage, decided to venture in. He was greeted by the worried faces of young girls.  
  
"Whasamattah?" he asked.  
  
Song squeaked in fright and hid behind Moon. All Moon did was point at the room where Kit and Tricks were.  
  
Slightly confused and worried, Mush walked in. He saw Tricks sobbing over Kit's motionless body. Laying a hand on Tricks' shoulder, he gently asked, "Wha happened ta her?"  
  
Tricks' voice was broken with sobs as she spoke. "Madame... got real angry... she hit Kit..."  
  
Kneeling beside Kit, Mush placed a hand on her chest. Faintly he could feel her heart beat and feel her chest rise and fall. "She's still alive. Is dere somewheres dat yous can put her where Madame can't hurt her?"  
  
"Yeah, dere's a little room in da attic. Madame nevah goes dere."  
  
Mush gathered Kit up in his strong arms and asked tricks to bring him there. Once they were there, Kit was lain in the old bunk that was there.  
  
"Keep her safe from Madame. She should come round soon." With that, Mush walked out.  
  
Over the next few days, everyone kept Madame in the dark as to where Kit was. They did all of her chores for her as well as their own. Surprisingly, Madame did not suspect anything. She merely figured that Kit had learned her lesson.  
  
December came, bringing with it cold weather and snow. The drafty Orphanage felt like an icebox since Madame refused to light any fires except the one in her bedroom and office.  
  
Faithfully, the Manhattan Newsies kept their vigil of the High Street Orphanage. None of the girls made any sign of acceptance, and the boys did not push them.  
  
One bitter evening, as Race was walking home from Sheepshead, he noticed a limp bundle of rags. Walking closer, he noticed it was a young girl. His first thought was that Madame had thrown Kit out, but then he noticed that the girl had black hair. A cold wind blew, prompting Race to do something. Bending down, he gathered up the girl and headed to the High Street Orphanage.  
  
Once he was there, he pounded on the door with his foot. "Kit, open up!"  
  
The door opened, revealing a very cold looking Kit. "Race, wha'..."  
  
"Yous gotta help her. I found her on me way home."  
  
Kit smoothed the girl's bangs away from her face. Motherly instinct kicked in at once. "Get her in, hurry."  
  
Kit hollered for Tricks who came looking as though she had just been getting to sleep. "Kit, wha' da hell..."  
  
"Get some blankets an' warm water. Bring 'em upstairs ta da attic." Kit turned to Race. Follow me. Yous real lucky dat Madame ain't heah."  
  
Placing the frozen girl in the attic junk, Race turned to go.  
  
"Wait, hold up a sec."  
  
Race turned around, puzzled.  
  
"Dere's no reason fer ya ta go home in dis weather. Dere's a spare room down da hall yous can use. Just get outta heah a'fore Madame gets back."  
  
Embarrassed, Race simply muttered something that sounded like thanks before retreating down the hall.  
  
Tricks came up with what Kit had called for a while later. After taking the things from Tricks, she sent her to bed. Once alone, Kit began to thaw out the girl who lay on the bunk. Her black hair was matted and dirty. The green eyes stood out starkly against the pale skin.  
  
"Wonder where dis one's comin' from?"  
  
Suddenly, the girl gave a shudder and sat straight up. "Where...?"  
  
"It's alright. Wha's yer name?"  
  
"Lindsey Matthews, but I's known as Two-Bit cuz dat's all I evah seem ta have."  
  
Kit laughed. "Welcome ta da High Street Orphanage. My name's Kitten, Kit fer short. Now get back ta sleep, yer safe now."  
  
Lindsey or Two-Bit nodded before letting her head kit the pillow. Once there, she fell fast asleep.  
  
Kit tucked her in, like she did with all of her girls. She left the oil lamp on the crate next to the bunk. In he morning, Kit would have to find her some new clothes. One her way out, she whispered, "Good night." 


	5. Breaking New Ground

Chapter 5: Breaking New Ground  
  
A/N: I'm so sorry everyone! I've had wicked writer's block for the longest time and I haven't been able to write anything. I realize that I have no excuse. ((falls to knees and begs for forgiveness)) I just hope you like this chapter! I personally think it sucks, but I'm highly critical of my writing. Enjoy!  
  
PS. I dedicate this chapter to Alex who was the only one who was angry enough to pester me with an e-mail saying that I really should update on pain of death. Here you go hun!

Two-Bit awoke that morning to find herself snugly tucked into a bunk. Beside her was a pile of clean clothes that bore little sign of wear. Pushing her long black bangs away from her face, Two-Bit climbed out of the bunk and dressed. The feeling of clean clothes felt strange to her, but it was a good kind of strange feeling.  
  
When she had finished dressing and was beginning to wonder where exactly she was, a knock sounded on the door. She gave a small yelp of surprise and demanded, "Who's dere?"  
  
"It's Kit, may I come in?"  
  
To the startled Two-Bit, Kit's voice seemed so calm and soothing. "Yeah, sure."  
  
The old wooden door opened, revealing Kit. For the first time, since she was properly awake, Two-Bit truly saw Kit. Her physical appearance was quite startling to her. The medium height, strawberry-blond hair, bright blue-green eyes that resembled the ocean, little silver scars tracing delicate patterns over her skin, and the slight frame that bore hidden strength was nothing like the person she had envisioned last night. She had thought that since that Newsie had brought her here, Kit would be somewhat of a slut.  
  
"Two-Bit, welcome." As she spoke, Kit's voice had a gentle motherly tone; further destroying Two-Bit's perception. "Did ya sleep good?"  
  
"Better den evah." Two-Bit paused a moment. Hesitantly she asked, "Where'd ya get dose scars?"  
  
Kit gave a sad laugh before responding. "You's gonna be wearin' some a dese soon. We's all got 'em."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Yeah, we; me, Tricks, Song, Moon, and Sun. And a course all da udder goils dat live heah."  
  
Two-Bit was confused. "But, if only you goils live heah, den how...?"  
  
The answer that Kit gave was, at best, cryptic. "Follow me an' you'll find out."  
  
Silently, Two-Bit followed Kit down the rickety attic stairs, through the dank and dingy hallways down to the front lobby. Kit went behind an ancient desk and pulled out a ledger. Passing it to Two-Bit she said, "Sign in. Jus' put yer full name, boithday if ya know it, age... da usual."  
  
With some trepidation, Two-Bit eyed the ledger. "I...I can't write."  
  
"No problem. Jus' tell me da info." Kit pulled a pen from the drawer and dipped it in the inkwell. "Whenevah yer ready..."  
  
"Lindsey Matthews, age 15. No known boithday. Do ya want me nickname too?"  
  
"Nope; da less dat's in da ledger, da bettah ya are." Kit surveyed Two-Bit's face to find it a bit puzzled. "See, if da bulls only know one name, like yer street name, den dey don't got a hope a findin' ya. We got a separate ledger dat has all a our nicknames dat we show ta da detectives dat come lookin' fer lost goils. No body evah knows who's really heah." Kit went under the desk and withdrew the other ledger. "Now we copy da same info, but usin' yer nick name."  
  
Down the entrance hall the front door slammed open, the sound reverberating through the old halls. Sensing the happy entrance of Madame Ashworth, Kit grabbed Two-Bit by the hand and dragged her to the "dining room."  
  
All of the other girls had already assembled in the room. That tell- tale sound of a slamming door had brought them all running. Smiles were wiped off faces and clean clothes were dirtied.  
  
Madame stormed into the room, dropping her bag on the floor. "Some one get that to my room," she slurred. Song scuttled forward and took the bag with appropriately shaking hands. She could smell the faint trace of badly hidden stale alcohol on her.  
  
Stepping forward, Madame Ashworth observed her charges. "What a sorry lot you are." She noticed Two-Bit standing near Kit. "And who do we have here?"  
  
Faced with Madame Ashworth in person, every wise comment Two-Bit could muster faded from her lips. She glanced uncertainly at Kit for support on cue of what to do. Kit, in the barest of whispers said, "Name."  
  
"I's.... Lindsey..... Matthews."  
  
Madame glanced over Two-Bit. "Why are you in MY Orphanage? I hope you have a good reason."  
  
Kit was very lucky that Madame was drunk. Producing a folded piece of paper that she had meant to throw away, she presented it to Madame saying, "Da city social worker sent 'er. Heah's da pape if ya want..."  
  
Madame glanced quickly at the paper then grunted. "Fine, she can stay." She turned to Two-Bit. "You are going to be treated the same as every other girl here; welcome." Without another word, Madame firmly smacked Two-Bit across the face, leaving a throbbing bright red mark. The then turned on her heel and stalked off to her room.  
  
"Delightful lady," Two-Bit remarked dryly.  
  
"Dat's only da customary greetin'." Sun replied.  
  
Moon nodded her head. "Wait a few days, see wha' happens latah."  
  
As predicted by Moon, Two-Bit was soon subjected to the usual treatment. She usually found herself the victim of a sound beating due to her mouth. Slowly, she began to collect a few scars that would, in time, grow into the fine silver trace work that covered the other girls.  
  
They were sitting in the bunkroom as Kit tended to Two-Bit's latest wounds.  
  
"Too bad we's nevah gonna get scars like Kit's. Dose are impressive." Moon gently traced her own as she spoke.  
  
"Ya don't want ones like mine," Kit countered. "Too much pain associated wid dese scars. Be happy ya ain't bein' given da treatment dat I's is."  
  
"GIRLS!" Madame's voice filtered through the locked door.  
  
They all stood, hoping against hope that they were not going to get beaten. Slowly they descended the rickety stairs. The younger ones clung to the older ones in fear. Madame stood at the foot of the stairs.  
  
"I'm going away for a few days. I expect that you all will behave yourselves. Mrs. Fisk shall be keeping a watch on you. She has permission to come here and punish you if she deems it necessary. I also expect that this dump will be spotless by the time I get back." With out ceremony, she gathered her bags and headed out to the carriage that was waiting.  
  
Once she was gone, Tricks turned to Kit and asked, "Wha' do ya say, O Great Leadah?"  
  
"Simple," she turned to the girls with a huge smile plastered on her face. "We's gonna clean dis place like she said, but we's gonna do it our way and have bit a fun while doin' it."  
  
The girls cheered at the proposition. "Can we's go see a show from Medda?" Song asked. Ever since hearing Kit's story of Medda's shows in Irving Hall, Song had adored Medda from afar.  
  
Kit hugged Song tightly. "Dat's just wha' I's had planned." Song squealed in delight and scurried off to find a clean dress. Kit and the others just laughed at Song's antics. "Da show starts in a hour. Be ready."  
  
The High Street Orphanage girls happily traversed the streets of New York City. It was Newsie Night at Irving Hall; Medda let the Newsies come to see a show free once a month. The chilly February air made their breath steam and the young ones tried to catch snowflakes on their tongues.  
  
Outside Irving Hall, Medda was greeting the Newsies that came in. the Manhattan Newsies had just arrived and were talking animatedly with her. Kit and the girls walked up to Medda, carefully trying not to disturb the conversation.  
  
"Kit, girls, how are you?" Medda called in her fake Swedish accent.  
  
"We's good Medda; Madame's gone fer a few days." Gently, Kit pulled Song out of hiding. "I's got a lil' one who'd like ta meet ya."  
  
"Who would that be?" Medda glanced about the group.  
  
"Medda, meet Song." Song was pushed forward so Medda could get a good look at her.  
  
"Song, why are you called that?"  
  
Song smiled. "Easy, cuz a dis..." Song paused for a moment before opening her mouth again. A song spilled forth with a haunting melody.  
  
"The stories are woven and fortunes are told  
  
The truth is measured by the weight of your gold  
  
The magic lies scattered on rugs on the ground  
  
Faith is conjured in the night market's sound..." 

(Loreena McKennitt- "Marrakesh Night Market")  
  
"What a lovely voice!" Medda exclaimed. "Especially for one so young. I wonder where you learned to sing like that."  
  
Song smiled embarrassedly. "Kit taught me. Have 'er sing too." Song was trying to hide again as she suggested this. Immediately, Kit lowered her eyes, hoping that she wouldn't have to.  
  
From beside Medda, Jack spoke up. "Go on, give us a lil' somethin'."  
  
Kit turned to glare at Jack. His Newsies still sold papers out front of the Orphanage. "Jack Kelly, when is yous gonna fig'er out dat yous ain't wanted 'round me Orphanage." Then, she turned her gaze away and closed her eyes. After a moment, she began to sing:  
  
"The morning comes, light the sky  
A lone one stands below  
Waiting every day, la la ley  
Same old flow  
Go away, leave the spot  
Visited every day, la la ley  
Danger, don't get caught  
Good bye, la la ley..." (Original work by me!)  
  
Finally, Kit's voice turned to mere humming as she gathered her girls and headed inside for the show. Outside, the Newsies were taking in the hidden message that Kit had given Jack.  
  
"She don' want us dere?" Mush asked, not sure why Kit wanted them away.  
  
Racetrack stood, smoking his usual cigar. He pondered what Kit may have meant. Them, it hit him as if Morris Delancy had just punched him in the face. ""Er Mistress!"  
  
The Newsies turned to look at him. Clearly, they were still lost.  
  
Sometimes, they were not the brightest bunch.  
  
"Kit mentioned danger an' gettin' caught. Dat mus' mean dat 'er Mistress is catchin' on er somethin'. She wants us ta stop comin' wid our papes so's dat we's don' get caught by 'er Mistress." Race nonchalantly stuffed his hands in his pockets after figuring that bit of information out, as though it was no big deal.  
  
"Fuck it, da short one's right...again,' Blink muttered under his breath.  
  
Skittery could not stand to be out side any longer. "Come on guys. Its fuckin' cold out heah; an' I's wanna see da show while me eyes are still open."  
  
"Shut yer mouth," Jack snapped. "Let's go den boys." The Newsies trooped inside of Irving Hall. They found a set of tables near both Spot and his boys and also near Kit and her girls.  
  
The show continued with out much incident, only a small squabble as Spot tried to hit on Kit. The squabble merely consisted of Spot getting his face punched in by Kit, and then having the older girls, namely Tricks and Two-Bit, rise up to disinterest any of Spot's Newsies from joining the meeting.  
  
Later that night, after a good meal from Tibby's, the High Street Orphanage girls headed home, hoping that Madame Ashworth had not changed her mind and came home. Fortunately, Lady Luck was with them, and the Orphanage looked abandoned. In the days that followed, events would occur that would shape the rest of the future, both immediate and distant.

A/N: There, another chapter out. Now, I warn you all, I may not have another out for quite some time. I'm not sure how the future is looking. I have somewhere to be in the next two weeks that won't allow me to access a computer. I'll try to get the next chap out before then, but don't count on it.  
  
Now, if you would be so kind, please review..... if you do, I may be inclined to get another out before I go away. Thanks! Toodles! 


	6. Let's Try This Again

**Chapter 6: Let's Try This Again**

After the incident at Medda's, the Newsies were, to say the least, confused. Their heads swam as they tried to find a good reason for the Mistress to know about them. Race took it upon himself to get to the bottom of this, even if it killed him. Figuratively speaking of course.

Good natured laughter had followed Spot as he headed home to Brooklyn to nurse both his ego and his growing black eye.

"He's in a delightful mood," Race mused as he watched Spot's retreating back. "Ha! He got beat by a goil! An' not jus' any goil, a goil who dun wanna fight!" Race was enjoying Spot's moment of misery too damn much. But he was allowed; he was Spot's best friend after all.

"Shut it Race," Jack muttered. "We's got more pressin' mattahs on our hands."

Race glared at Jack. "Yous t'ink I's don' know dat? If yeh've forgotten, I's da one who said dat we's gotta help dem!" He stalked off to fume for a few minutes.

The thing to remember about Racetrack is that his temper is shorter than he is. This lends to him loosing it quite often, usually resulting in various broken things. But he is a good guy, despite the gambling problem and short temper. Mush once said that he cares too much. Go figure.

"Race, get back heah," Jack called. "Yer right, yous da one who suggested it. So, got any ideahs?"

Taking a drag on his cigar, Race thought for a moment. "Mmmm, lemme t'ink."

Everyone watched in silence as Rae paced, racking his meager brain for some sort of plan of action.

"Ya done yet?" Blink demanded.

Race stopped pacing. Everyone expected Race to soak Blink at that very moment. However, Race serenely answered, "Actually, I do."

The Newsies were struck dumb.

More so than usual.

"We's gotta start all ovah again. We's gotta let 'er know dat she can trust us. It's gonna take a lot a woik from all a us. Any questions?" Race tossed the butt of his cigar in the trash. He looked expectantly around.

Jack stood; ready to give his leader-ly discourse on how they were to go about doing the proposed project. "Since none a yous disagree wid Race, dat makes t'ings easiah. Foist, we's gonna stop hauntin' 'er door; we gotta pull outta dere slowly, so's dat da person who's watchin' Kit an' us don' get suspicious. We's gonna get 'er ta trust us; she and 'er goils need it right now..."

Jack continued on his plan of action. It made sense to do what Race had suggested. There was this unspoken, unwritten rule amongst the Manhattan Newsies that whenever Jack was unavailable, Race would step in as leader. Reason being that Race was one of Jack's closest friends and because Race had lived on the streets longer than anyone else. There was a plausible reason for Racetrack Higgins saying that he knew everything about New York; that was because he did.

Meanwhile, as the Newsies were planning on how to get back inside Kit's trust, Kit and her girls were trying to sneak back inside the Orphanage without getting caught. They all knew that Mrs. Fisk was just waiting to get the opportunity to catch the girls doing something they were not supposed to be doing.

"Kit, wha' bout da fire escape?" Two-Bit asked as she and all of the others stood outside in the freezing February air. Fortunately, the threatening snow had yet to fall.

"Nah, it faces Mrs. Fisk's kitchen. Dat's no good." Kit paced, trying to think and stay warm at the same time. If only there was a back entrance....

A thought then hit Kit like a ton of bricks.

"Wha' da hell was I thinkin'? O'course we's got a back entrance!" Without any further explanation, he grabbed Two-bit by the arm and motioned for the others to follow behind.

Two-Bit was thoroughly confused. Never, in her three months of being at the Orphanage had she seen any type of back entrance. "Kit," she asked with some trepidation, "where's dis entrance yous talkin' bout?"

"Two-Bit, Tricks, gimme a lift, would ya?" Kit was pointing at a small window in the corner of the building.

Tricks looked at Two-Bit and mouthed, "I t'ink she's lost it." However, both were dutiful and gave Kit a lift up to the window that she had pointed out. After a good few minutes of standing in the freezing cold, Kit managed to shimmy the window open. She fell through and landed with a dull thud. Seconds later, a section of the seemingly solid wall was being moved away.

"Come on, it's freezing out heah." That was all she said as she led everyone inside the slightly warm Orphanage.

"Kit, where did dat door come from? I's nevah seen it b'fore an' I's been heah for nearly as long as yous." Tricks was slightly ticked off that Kit knew about something that she did not.

"Madame Whitefield had Fiona block it off a few weeks afore she died. She didn' want Madame Ashworth ta know 'bout it." Kit looked apologetically at her best friend.

Behind them, the younger girls yawned loudly, signaling that they wanted bed.

"Let's get dese rascals ta bed, whaddaya say?' Two-Bit was already picking up little Sun who was swiftly falling asleep. Half an hour later, everyone was asleep, warmly tucked in their beds with newly discovered wool blankets that Kit had seen when she was a little girl living with Madame Whitefield.

Morning dawned on the High Street Orphanage. The rising sun found all of the girls huddled together in the middle of their bunkroom floor. They did not bother to light the fireplace last night for warmth due to the fact that they were too tired. The only girl missing from the group was Kit. She happened to be down in the kitchen, preparing a breakfast that would actually feed the girls.

"Second slum riot in t'ree days!"

Kit glanced out of the window to see who today's selected Newsie was. Toady, in the freezing snow, Racetrack had opted to sell near the Orphanage.

"Da idiot," Kit muttered as she grabbed her thin coat from the rack and headed outside.

"Heah's a headline fer ya, 'Dumbass freezes ta death!'"

Kit gave a snicker as Race spun around, lost his balance on a patch of ice, and fell flat on his ass.

"Very funny, now help a poor guy up." Race stuck his hand up for Kit to take.

Kit shook her head. "How's about you'se listen ta me. Gimme a pape, den ya can come join da goils an' me fer a bit a breakfast. Whaddaya say ta dat?"

From his position on the cold city street, Race could not help but agree to what Kit was offering. Hell, any chance of a warm, free meal was welcome. He then pulled himself up and followed Kit into the Orphanage. Luck had it that Mrs. Fisk was still fast asleep.

The other girls soon came down when they heard laughter coming from downstairs. Cautiously, they peered around the corner to the kitchen. There was Race, being his normal smartass self, and Kit, attempting to make breakfast while laughing at Race.

"Kit!" Tricks shrieked. "Wha' do ya t'ink yer doin'?" The glare that tricks was sending her best friend was close to murderous.

"Keep yer pants on, Tricks. Fer someone who's all for a good joke, yer takin' dis kinda hard." Kit smiled at her.

Sighing heavily, Tricks simply muttered in response. She knew that Kit needed as much happiness as she could get. Things would have been so much different if Madame Ashworth had not become Mistress and Fiona had actually stayed to run the Orphanage. She knew that depression ate at Kit daily, and that one of these days, Kit might just decide to give up completely, leaving Tricks and the new addition of Two-Bit to watch after the girls.

Breakfast went without much incident. Except for the part when Mrs. Fisk decided to check up on the girls. That resulted in Race being hurriedly shoved in a closet until Mrs. Fisk left. Speaking of Race, he stayed the entire day, helping the girls work on their appointed task of cleaning.

That night, after supper, Racetrack headed home, content with the knowledge that Kit and her girls did not hate them, as they had previously thought. After his talk with Kit about the situation, he realized just what Madame Ashworth was capable of. One thing saddened him though. Tricks had quietly spoken to him about Kitten's condition. It worried him that she felt useless; everything in that Orphanage depended on Kit to run it properly. The girls looked up to her as a figure of strength to get through the worst days, and they all loved her fiercely. They were thoughts that a normal 17 year old boy should not be haunted with.

* * *

February slowly faded into March, but the harsh winter still remained. Madame was back, and she was a cruel as ever. The only bright spot in the Orphanage girls' lives were the Newsies who looked after them. Once in a while, some of the Newsies would take the younger girls selling with them, just to get them away from Madame Ashworth. Usually, Two-Bit would go with them, simply to spend time with her new beau of Mush. It was adorable really.

One night, the winter winds were fiercer than usual. A great storm was blowing through, bringing deep snow and biting chill. Kit was stoking the bunkroom fireplace when a knock sounded on the front door. Making sure the other girls were safely tucked in, Kit mare her way downstairs. She opened the door and found nothing. At least, there was nothing standing right in front of her. She closed the door and began walking away, figuring that someone had realized that they had come to the wrong address.

Then, from outside the door she just closed, she heard a wail. She went back and opened the door again. At first, she saw nothing, but then, just as she was closing the door, she saw a small bundle lying on the stoop. She bent down and came face to face with a two month old baby girl. Hurriedly, Kit gathered the little bundle up and flew back upstairs to the warm bunkroom.

The girls looked at Kit's worried face. There must be something wrong if Kit's usually serene face held a look of panic.

Tricks stood and walked toward Kit. "Wha's wrong?"

Kit held every girls gaze separately. "Goils, I's like ya ta meet da newest membah a da family..." She opened the bundle to reveal the baby girl. Song and Sun moved forward to coo over the little bundle while Tricks, Two-Bit and Kit held a serious conversation.

"We's gonna keep 'er?" Two-Bit asked. "Wha' if Madame finds 'er?"

Tricks nodded in agreement. "How can we's keep 'er wid Madame heah? She'd nevah let us keep 'er!"

While Two-Bit and Tricks were arguing about the fact that there was no way that she could be kept, Kit was giving at the little bundle in question. She had strawberry blonde hair like Kit, and silvery grey eyes. Every maternal instinct that Kit possessed came flooding forward in a single instant. "She stays." Kit said simply.

The two eldest girls, who had just been arguing to the un-listening Kit, became silent.

"She stays," Kit said again. "I don't care what Madame thinks. I'll be da one ta look aftah 'er. If Madame's got a issue, she deals wit me."

Moon, who had been observing in the background, spoke up. "Whacha gonna name 'er?" She had known that Kit would keep the little girl.

Kitten thought for a moment. "Elenora Knight."

Moon walked forward and kissed little Elenora's forehead. "Welcome home, Elenora Knight."


	7. Internal Strife

**Chapter 7: Internal Strife**

**A/N:** Sorry it's been so long. I hope that this makes up for everything! Read on!

7.7.7.7

Bitter winds battered the old Orphanage for the next week. Fireplaces went unlit in order to preserve what precious little wood they had. The inside of the Orphanage felt like an icebox that had cold air blowing through it. The girls tried their hardest not to complain, but after a while their firm resolve dissipated.

To add to the problem, Madame Ashworth was worse than ever before. During the day she drank heavily and mercilessly abused her charges.

"Two-Bit," Madame slurred. "Git over here."

From beneath her long black bangs, Two-Bit eyed Madame. "Dere's no way she' gettin' me," she muttered. Taking a last look at Kit, Two-Bit turned and bolted for the front door.

Stumbling after here, Madame was shrieking, "You little bitch! How dare you!" Halfway to the door, she collapsed and passed out cold, much to the relief of the remaining girls.

Rearranging Elenora on her hip, Kit surveyed the scene. She handed Ele (as she was called) to Song. "Tricks, you an' me'll put Madame in her room. Maybe she'll sleep forevah. Da rest a yous'll get back to eating yer lunch." Despite her brusqueness, Kit meant kindly, and the girls knew this. They were also aware of the terrible stress that she was under.

The dead weight of Madame was carried away and forgotten for the rest of the day. Without Madame breathing down their backs, he girls were able to do their chores with more efficiency.

Deciding to take a break form her work, Tricks questioned Kit, "You's got any ideah where Bit went?"

"Me best guess is dat she went straight ta da Newsies. Mush'll take care a her dere." Gathering Ele from Song, Kit made her way upstairs to where Moon was.

7.7.7.7

Two-Bit's feet pounded the snowy streets as she ran through Manhattan. Not once had she looked behind her. She had little care for the rich people that she startled along her way. The singular thought that coursed through her mind was, "Get ta Mush." Her body shook with cold because she had left all of her things, including her coat at the Orphanage.

Bolting through the front of the Manhattan Lodging House, Two-Bit nearly frightened Kloppman to death.

"Two-Bit, why are you here?' Kloppman moved out from behind the desk to confront the shaking girl.

All she could manage was, "Madame... crazy..." before bolting up the rickety steps to the bunk room. She burst through the door, causing everyone present to look up.

Spot looked up from the poker game he was playing. "Well, well, what have we heah?"

"Back off Spot," Mush snapped while sending what he thought was an evil glare in Spot's direction. "Wha's wrong, Bit?"

"I jus' couldn't deal anymore. Madame's finally lost it." She scanned the room, comfortable in the midst of all the Manhattan Newsies. "Mind if I stay?"

"'Course not," Jack said from beside Spot. "Stay as long as ya like; no bettah place in town. An' Spotty me boy, youse can't do nothin' 'bout it."

Exhausted from her troubles, Two-Bit made her way to an open bunk. She flopped down, kicked off her shoes and immediately fell asleep. She dreamt of nothing, only sleeping soundly.

"Wonder what Madame did dis time," Race pondered. "Musta been awful fer Bit ta come runnin'"

"We ain't gonna question. She's one a Kit's goils; she knows wha' she's doin'." After speaking his piece, Jack returned to the poker game. As usual, he was losing horridly and Racetrack was naturally winning. Spot thought he was winning, but then again, his ego was so big that he couldn't tell the difference.

While they were playing, Race's mind would occasionally wander. He wondered about how he would get his next meal; he wondered what the headline would be for tomorrow. More importantly, he wondered what was happening at the High Street Orphanage.

7.7.7.7

After allowing Two-Bit to run off, Kit slowly made her way up the stairs, carefully avoiding the holes in the rotting wooded steps. Little Elenora quietly slept as Kit walked. Watching Ele's face made Kit's heart break. "Ta be innocent again..." she wondered out loud. She knew that Elenora's innocence would not last long in the Orphanage.

Coming upon the sick-room, which was actually no more than a slightly large closet, Kit walked in. Lying in the small bed was Moon. Recently, due to both her living conditions and the awful weather, Moon had taken ill. Kit was unsure of what ailed her "little sister," but she cared for her lovingly nonetheless.

"Tow-Bit got away." Kit watched Moon's pale face brighten slightly.

"Good fer her. Jus' wha' she needed." Moon gave a slight cough which brought about a series that racked her thin body.

Kitten set Ele down and got to work. She bathed Moon's forehead with cool water and made a soothing tea for her to drink. All the while, Kit was wrestling with her own internal demons. Never once did she speak them aloud, but Moon's perception was keen.

"Kit, dere's somethin' dat youse been keepin' ta yer self. Ya ain't gonna fix anythin' by stayin' locked up." Moon waited for Kit to ease up. Having Kit express what was on her mind was no easy task.

Some considerable time passes before Kit stopped fidgeting. Sitting on the end of the bed she said, "Promise me dat youse won't say nothin'."

"Promise."

Taking a deep breath, Kit allowed everything to pour out. "Foistly, dere's da fact dat youse is sick. An' dat scares me cuz dere's a real good chance dat you'll die." As she spoke, a few tears leaked from her eyes. "Den dere's everythin' dat goin' on wid da Orphanage. Madame's horrid an' she's nevah gonna stop. Unlike Two-Bit, I just can't run away from all a dis. I need ta be heah. I's runnin' dis place an' I look aftah all da goils dat come though. I've gotta do so much around heah dat it's driving me mad! All I wanna do is stop it all. I should a left dis place when Madame Whitefield died. I's been living' me whole life in dis hell. I don't know if I can keep doin' dis fer much longer..."

Quietly, Moon listened to everything that Kit said. She understood exactly what Kit meant. "Keep holdin' on. Somethin's gotta happen soon. An' don't you worry bout me."

Kit opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door flying open. In the doorway stood an out of breath Tricks, panic blazing in her eyes.

Everything that she was going through was immediately forgotten as she asked Tricks what was wrong. Tricks' breathless explanation was less than welcome and expected.

"WHAT?! Da city inspectah's heah, now? Why?"

"He didn' say. We's got Madame locked away so dat she ain't seen. Youse gotta be da woman in charge heah." Tricks looked hopefully at Kit.

Kitten thought for a moment. She needed a solid lie that could not be cracked open, and that she could easily remember it the next time this man came around. Finally coming up with what she hoped was a secure enough lie, she gathered up Elenora. Before walking downstairs, Kit changed into a simple working woman's skirt and blouse with an apron to look her assigned part. Once ready, Kit made her way down to meet the dreaded official.

"Hello, sir." She greeted the middle-aged balding man in a crisp business suit. "May I ask the nature of your visit?" She hoped against hope that her common accent was not showing through what she hoped was educated speech.

The official smiled at Kit, mis-aligned teeth the center of attention. "You must be the owner. My name is Mr. Parks. Your name would be...?"

Kit gave the first name that came to her, which was not her own. "Fiona Kelley."

"Well, Miss Kelley, I'm here to inspect your facility. If you would be so kind as to show me around." He was not asking, she was demanding.

"With slight hesitation, Kit answered, "Certainly."

She led Mr. Parks about, explaining a few things along the way. "You must excuse the mess. I recently became the Mistress here. We're in the process of renovating. The previous Mistress did not maintain the building as she should have."

"I can see that. And I am certain that you will do much better." Mr. Parks took a long look at Kit. "I have noticed that you are carrying a baby girl. Is she one of your charges?"

"She is my daughter." Kit turned her eyes down to look at Ele, trying to avoid Mr. Parks' calculating gaze.

"Where's the father?" he asked with some malice.

Kit glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly supper time. Quickly, she fabricated something. "He should be returning shortly." Silently, she prayed that one of the Manhattan Newsies would walk in.

Almost as if he knew she needed him, Jack Kelley walked in, obviously looking for a free meal. He almost froze when he saw Mr. Parks observing his actions.

"Ah, Mr. Kelley. Your wife was just telling me about your charming daughter."

Knowing better than to respond immediately to the question, Jack went over to display his 'husbandly affection.' Kit immediately launched into a barely audible explanation as it appeared as the two fussed over Elenora. "My name is Fiona, this is Elenora, and I'm the Mistress."

Aloud Kit said, "Did you have a good day at work?"

"Where do you work?" Mr. Parks cut in. He eagerly leaned in, making it seem that he wanted to catch them in a lie.

"I work in a newspaper office." To Kit he said, "Work was fine. Everyone asked how you and Elenora were doing."

Eventually, Mr. Parks left, leaving the Orphanage alone. Kit was grateful to Jack for playing along. Even the other girls were glad that Jack had easily followed the charade. He merely said that it came with the territory. When he asked for an explanation as to what was wrong, they were all guarded with their answers. They felt that their situation should be dealt with by them alone.

The day's incidents were just a few of the many that would befall the unobtrusive High Street Orphanage.

7.7.7.7

**A/N: **Hey, give me your thoughts on what you think is gonna happen! I'd like to know, maybe I could incorporate some of your thoughts into later chaps! Toodles!

Aelia


	8. It All Falls Down

**A/N:** I know it has been nearly forever since I have updated this. So much got in the way and made it impossible to write. Things seem to be back on track now, so updates might actually begin to occur again. I apologize for the wait, and I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 8: It All Falls Down**

Long after the city building inspector left, Kit sat with Elenora and Jack in the front office of the Orphanage. "Jack, I've gotta thank you for playin' along." After having to summon the more cultured speech Madame Whitefield had drilled into her long ago, the heavy low-class accent had softened quite a bit.

"Yer goils weren't sayin' much about what's goin' on heah. Care to enlighten me?"

Kit fiddled with her apron strings. "Mr. Parks was a city building inspector. He was makin' sure we's keeping everything proper. Madame doesn't care enough to fix da place up. If he had found out what sort of horrible woman she is and how little she cares, he woulda shut down da Orphanage."

Jack looks across at Kit, perplexed by her statement. "But why protect 'er?"

"Dis orphanage is da only home me and da girls know. If it gets taken away, we have no where to go and our family is destroyed. I'm sure you can understand dat."

"Yeah…I get ya. I just hope you knows what yous doin'."

"Don't worry 'bout us, Jack."

As Jack walked back to his own lodging house, Kit went up to the bunkroom to check on her girls. On her hip, little Ele smiled up at her caretaker innocently and happily. Kit wrapped the little girl tighter in the shawl to keep her warm in the freezing orphanage. She enters the bunkroom to find all of the girls huddled together around a small newspaper fire. Kit is suddenly struck by the abject poverty she and her girls live in.

She moves towards the fire, and the girls shuffle around to give her and Ele some space. "Girls," she says after a few moments of silence, "I want yous ta pack up what little belongin's you got. I'm not sure how, but we's gonna get outta here."

A small glow of hope enters the eyes of all the girls. Though for most of them the orphanage is the only home they have ever known, they have all dreamt of a time when they would live in a better place than a rundown orphanage managed by a spiteful woman.

Tricks found a few knapsacks in a long forgotten closet and hands them around. They don't have much in the way of possessions, but the few they do have are dearly treasured. Kit carefully packs away her old doll Gwen, the journal where she had recorded every story Fiona had ever told her, and her spare set of clothes. Wrapped into her spare set of socks, Kit carefully placed the silver filigree pendant necklace that had once belonged to Madame Whitefield.

Now, the only thing to do was wait.

For most of the night, the girls slept fitfully, waking up at the slightest noise before settling back down into restless sleep. The majority of the noise came from Madame who had finally come out of her drunken stupor. Downstairs in her room, Madame banged about, making it impossible for the girls to sleep.

It was not a noise, but a smell that woke Kit up for the last time. Slipping out of bed, she crept through the orphanage, tracking the smell. As she got closer to the front of the building where the office and Madame's room was, the smell was strongest. Looking down, Kit saw tendrils of smoke creeping out from beneath Madame's door. A moment later, those smoke tendrils were replaced by tongues of fire.

Terror swept over Kit. She dashes back up the rickety stairs and down the hall to the bunkroom. Her heart pounds in her chest. She flies around the bunkroom, waking everyone up.

"Get up, get yer things. We're getting' outta here!"

Tricks yawns, and then asks, "Wha's goin' on?"

"Downstairs is on fire," Kit responds simply as she ties Ele onto her back.

The words seem to have a magic effect. All of the girls suddenly move with newfound speed. They throw on coats and boots and grab their knapsacks. The younger girls stand in a huddle, trembling and whimpering with fear.

"Stay close together. Don' let anybody fall behind." As they exit the bunkroom, they can see that the flames have crept up the front stairs. The hall is hot and filled with foul smoke. A girl shrieks in fear. Kit quickly hurries down the hall to the back stairwell. These back stairs have not been used in many years, so they have fallen into disrepair. Many of the boards have rotted, making using them treacherous.

The girls carefully follow Kit, stepping exactly where she steps. The older girls are spread out amongst the younger ones, holding hands and keeping them calm. Behind them, the fire roars and the smoke chases after them. Occasionally a crash occurs, telling them that the building is slowly collapsing. The girls race against time, hoping they get out before the whole building collapses around them.

Finally, they make it down the flight of stairs and into the back courtyard. From the courtyard, there is only a narrow passage alongside the Orphanage that leads out to High Street.

"Girls, we's gotta run fast. Don't look at the fire, just run straight past it." She looks at all of her girls. "Yous ready? RUN!"

All of them run down the little passage, trying not to look at the fire and slip on the ice. As they spill out onto High Street, they are met with the sight of the Orphanage beginning to collapse. Madame is nowhere in sight. Instead of sticking around with the small crowd that had gathered, the girls bolt down the street, following Kit on every turn.

Kit does not know where she is running to. She only knows that she must keep moving if she wants to save her girls. Turning a corner, she spots a short figure ambling along smoking a cigar.

"Racetrack!" she cries out.

The figure turns and is illuminated by a streetlight. It is indeed Racetrack.

"Kit? What da hell you doin' out heah?" He hurries over to the pack of Orphanage girls.

"Da Orphanage burned down," Kit explains. Racetrack nearly chokes on his cigar. "Do ya know anyplace where we can stay?"

Race ponders for a moment. "Stay wid me an' da boys fer da night. In da mornin', you can talk ta Kloppman about housing. Deal?"

Kit gives him a beaming smile. "Thanks, Race," she says before kissing his cheek.

He leads the freezing group of girls to the Newsboy Lodging House of Manhattan. Kloppman, sitting at the front desk is startled as Race brings the girls in. He looks at Racetrack, demanding an explanation.

"Dere Orphanage burned down," he explains to the elderly man. "Dey need a warm place to sleep fer da night. Can we open up da unused attic room?"

Kloppman looks over the bedraggled girls. He can see that they have been terribly mistreated and certainly wouldn't survive sleeping outside. "Take them up to the boys. I'll get the attic cleaned and warmed up."

The former High Street Orphanage girls thank Kloppman in a chorus of profuse thank-yous. Racetrack leads them up the stairs to the floor where the Newsies sleep.

"Rise and shine boys!" Race calls out loudly. "We got company!"

From the bunk beds, sleepy heads of Newsies rise from pillows.

"What da hell you talkin' 'bout, Race?" Blink demands.

"Da Orphanage girls are heah, ya dumbass."

Suddenly, all of the Newsies are much more awake. Their heads swivel towards the doorway. Sure enough, plain as day, the girls are standing beside Racetrack.

Jack swings out of bed and walks over to the girls. "Wha' brings you ta our lovely establishment on dis fine winter's evenin'?"

"Da Orphanage burned down," Kit replies, feeling that she's repeating herself.

The Newsies break out into curious chatter. Jack merely nods his head in understanding.

Kloppman pokes his head into the bunkroom. "Alright girls, I've got the upstairs all ready for you. Sleep well. You boys get back to bed and don't bother the girls. They've had a rough night."

Race leads Kit and her girls up to the attic. They are greeted by a bright warm fire, carefully contained in the fireplace. The beds have been made up with clean bedding, and floor swept clean.

"It's wonderful Race, thank you."

Race shuffles his feet awkwardly. "Not a problem. Just get some sleep and we'll see you tomorrow." He retreats down the stairs, back to the safety of the boys' room. Things would certainly get interesting with the girls around.


	9. Beginning Anew

**Chapter 9: Beginning Anew**

Kit and her girls were woken the next morning by Kloppman rousing the Newsies from their beds. For such a small old man, he could certainly make a ruckus. In the early morning sunlight, the girls began to explore the attic room.

"Well ain't dis da fine life!" Tricks proclaims from a doorway by the stairs. "We's got our own washroom!" She steps aside to reveal a small washroom. It is a bit grimy from disuse, but a good scrubbing would make it useable once again.

As much as she didn't want to dash their hopes, Kit felt that she had to be the voice of reason. "Don't get too excited, girls. We don't know if we can stay or not. I gotta talk to Kloppman once he gets the Newsies out da door."

She walks over to the bunk closest to the fire. Cocooned in blankets lies Moon, only her pale face visible. "How ya feelin' today, hun?"

"Its not so bad, once I got warmed up. If I can stay where it's warm, I might be able ta get bettah." Her pale grey eyes reflected the firelight, reminding Kit of something Moon had said a few days prior.

"Moon, a few days ago, you said that somethin' was gonna happen. Did you know dat da fire was goin' to start?"

Moon reaches out and idly strokes Ele's hair. "I had no idea dat a fire would set us free. I only had faith dat we couldn't be stuck wid Madame forever." She pauses, letting out a cough that shakes her thin body. "I also have faith dat I'll get bettah. Just let me stay somewhere safe an' warm an' you'll see. I'll get bettah."

Kit smiles softly at Moon. "I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best."

"Yer best is all we ever asked of you."

Kit stood, smoothed Moon's blankets, gathered up Ele and headed for the stairs. Over her shoulder she said, "You lot behave. I'm gonna talk ta Kloppman 'bout our options." As she walks down the stairs, she is nearly run over by Two-Bit."

"Did it really burn down?"

"Bit, where you been?"

Two-Bit laughs. "I's been heah wid da Newsies. Mush told me dis mornin' dat you goils were heah. Did da Orphanage really burn down?"

Kit is momentarily overwhelmed by Two-Bit's exuberance. "Yes, da Orphanage burned down. I have no idea if Madame is alive or not. And right now, I really need ta talk ta Kloppman about the options for da girls." Without letting Two-Bit say anything in response, Kit fled down the stairs.

She regretted being sharp with Two-Bit, but Kit's head was all muddled. Her conversation with Moon had shaken her, especially after such a harrowing night. Her main concern at the present moment was not gossip, but ensuring that the girls she had sworn to take care of had a place to live.

When she got to the first floor, she saw that Kloppman's office door was open wide and welcoming. Yet, with her thoughts straying to dark corners, Kit did not think holding a conversation that would determine her future was the best to have just yet. Instead, she grabbed a coat off the coat rack, and plunged out into the freezing morning air. The month of March was viciously holding on to the last of the winter freeze. With Ele tucked safely inside the coat, Kit let herself wander the New York City streets aimlessly.

Once or twice, she passes a familiar Newsie face, but never went close enough that they would recognize her. The fire at the Orphanage had brought up painful memories of her past. How many more fires must I endure, she wondered. Round and round in a ceaseless dance, her thoughts swirled. How will I care for the girls? Where will we stay? How will we afford to live? Can we survive? When her hand touched a cold metal gate, Kit finally came out of her dark thoughts and looked at where she was.

Before her stands a small church cemetery, tucked into a quiet part of the lower class neighborhood. She unlatches the gate and walks down the small cobblestone path to the last row of graves. Five headstones in from the right is the place of Madame Whitefield's eternal rest. As she set her eyes on the headstone, the overwhelming confusion and fear finally consumes Kit. She collapses to her knees and begins to sob. Inside her coat, little Elenora clutches the woman she has come to identify as mother.

For some reason, Race chose today not to sell down at Sheepshead. Instead, he wandered about the city, hawking papes as he went. It gave him a sense of nostalgia for when he first became a Newsie many years ago. He turned the corner and came upon the familiar sight of St. Gabriel's Church. Seeing the church reminded him of the parents he lost as a young boy. They were buried in the churchyard, he remembered.

Kneeling by the grave of his parents, he was suddenly startled by a piercing wail coming from within the graveyard. With a start, he stands up straight, his guard up. Though he scoffed at ghost stories, a small part of him still believed in the tales. In the back corner of the yard, hidden by the shadow of a building was a hunched figure. Once again the wail came.

Moving closer, he recognized the shock of strawberry blonde hair that stood out starkly against the shadows and dark coat.

"Kit?"

The hunched figure raises its head and turns to look at the person who addressed it. Kit's tearstained face looks mournfully up at Racetrack. "I can't do this anymore, Race." She then collapses into another fit of tears.

Racetrack sits down on the cold cobblestone beside her. Awkwardly, he wraps an arm around her shoulders. Offering comfort to a sobbing young woman is an entirely new experience for Racetrack. After a while of silent comfort, Kit's sobs subside into sniffles.

Pulling her head out of Race's shoulder she asks, "How is it dat you always seem to know where ta find me?"

Race scratches the back of his head as he thinks. "I can't say. So wha's got yer pretty face covered in tears?"

"I jus' feel so lost, Race. The girls expect me to look after 'em and keep 'em safe. Dat's a lotta responsibility. On top a dat, I've gotta look afta Elenora too. I hate da uncertainty dat comes with bein' an orphan. I'm sure you understand."

Indeed Race did. "Me parents died when I was five, an' none a me relatives wanted me. So, I was tossed out inta da streets. I's been on dese streets longer den most a da Newsies in da city. It wasn't til I joined up wid da Manhattan boys dat I found a safe place ta sleep every night."

"What am I gonna do?" Kit lamented.

Race stood and jammed his hat on his head. "Step one: dry dose eye an' stand up. Step 2: we talk ta Kloppman. I'm sure he'd let you goils stay in da attic. Step four: you stop worrin' 'bout what you don' know." Race put his hands on his hips and chewed his cigar while looking down at Kit.

Kit wiped the sleeve of the coat across her dripping nose and eyes. What Race said made sense. It made so much sense that she nearly kicked herself for not thinking of it on her own. Taking a deep breath, she hauls herself to her feet. Elenora pokes her little head out of Kit's jacket and makes a happy gurgling sound when her huge eyes set on Racetrack.

"Sorry sweetcheeks," he says to Elenora with a pat on her head, "I'm too old for ya."

Elenora sticks a small hand out of Kit's coat and tries to grab at Race's cigar.

Slipping an arm through Race's, Kit looks at him with a bright smile and says, "Shall we head home then?"

"I'll take ya da scenic route."

It was not until much later that Racetrack, Kit, and Elenora returned to the Lodging House. As they enter through the door, Kloppman comes out of his office, wiping his hands on a rag. "Ah, just the girl I wanted to see."

Kit casts a nervous glace at Race, who merely pushes her towards Kloppman's office. He slips away upstairs, hoping to find someone there dumb enough to get into a dice game with him.

"Mr. Kloppman, I greatly appreciate what ya did for me girls. I don't wish ta be a bother, so I was wonderin' if you knew of any girls' houses we could go to?"

"Now stop right there young lady. You're not going anywhere. My boys are pleased as punch that you've escaped that awful orphanage and ended up at their lodging house. I'm more than willing to let you and the girls stay. But I do have a few conditions. I'd like to be able to get this place running properly again. Your girls can do the cleaning and cooking in order to earn your keep. Once things are under control, your girls can find other means of earning their keep if they so desire."

Kit raises an eyebrow at Kloppman. It was more than she ever expected. However, there was a small detail missing. "Wha' 'bout me, sir?"

"You, my dear, will take over the day to day management. I know you have a knack for it. You'll oversee the grocery shopping, chores, etc that will keep this place running. Clear?"

"It's wonderful, sir. Thank you so much. Da girls will be so pleased when dey find out!" Mindful of Ele, Kit wrapped Kloppman in a warm hug.

Walking upstairs to join Race, Kit silently rejoiced. Finally, everything was starting to look up. She had not failed in her promise to the girls, and a stable life was before her. She felt rejuvenated, and able to confront any future issues with a little more strength.


	10. Settling In

**Chapter 10: Settling In**

"Jack, is it true?"

"Yeah, is it? Are dey really stayin'?"

Jack stops midstride and spins around to face his Newsies. All morning the only thing they had done was pester him about Kit and her girls. He looks across the group, their faces bright with a strange light. With a groan and roll of his eyes, Jack forces himself to speak.

"Yeah, its true. Da goils are gonna be stayin' wid us. You got a problem wid dat?"

To his surprise, the boys let out a cheer of excitement.

"Dat's great, Jack!" Mush cried. "We's got sistah's now!"

Jack rolls his eyes and quickly scans the room for his right-hand man.

Race stood off to the side puffing his cigar, a slightly bemused expression on his face. He was glad Kloppman was letting the girls stay, but he was not about to go prancing around the city proclaiming it from the rooftops. He only hoped that the enthusiasm of the boys would not be off-putting to Kit. They could be an exuberant bunch, and he knew Kit had liked a bit of order and quiet about her orphanage.

"Race," Jack implored, coming to stand beside his long time friend. "Please tell me you ain't squealin' like a goil over dis too."

After taking a drag on his cigar, Race answered. "I's just glad dey got a safe place to stay where dey can be together. Now, if ya don' mind, I's got papes ta sell." He tightened his coat against the chill and wandered out into the city streets to sell his papers.

The rest of the Manhattan Newsies took the hint and buckled down to work. They transmuted their excitement over the girls into improving the truth of the boring headlines of the day. It was with a little extra spring in their step that they took to the streets for a day of selling.

Kit stands in the attic room, given to her and the girls by Kloppman, looking around and making an assessment. The former orphanage girls barely filled about half of the beds in the room. Despite the mess and dust from long disuse, the furnishings were in good condition, and they had a washroom of their own. She was grateful for everything that Kloppman had done for them. The horrors that had once been ever present were beginning to slowly fade into the background. Never had she dreamed that things would work out this way.

Kit turns to face her girls. "Alright girls, we's got some work ta do. Time ta turn dis into a home."

With unusual enthusiasm, the girls set themselves to the task of cleaning. It is backbreaking work, but they do not seem to mind overmuch. Years of living in the High Street Orphanage under Madame Ashworth had conditioned them to the mind-numbing, backbreaking work. Early on, they had all learned the difficult lesson that in order to survive you had to work, and work hard. It was the same lesson the Newsies had learned.

To lighten the mood, Song entertained them with songs of both her own composition and ones she had learned over the years. Two-Bit offered jokes and amusing stories about the Newsies they were now living with.

As she worked, Kit smiled to her self. Despite all of the hardship her girls had experienced, they still had a bit of precious innocence. Elenora was napping on a bunk, her tiny face peaceful in sleep. Kit thanked the powers that be that little Elenora would never know the evil of the High Street Orphanage. She also prayed that the little girl would never know the pain of being hungry and homeless.

Unbeknownst to the girls, Kloppman watches from the stairwell. He smiles at the bustle of female activity. The presence of these girls will have a calming effect on his usually rowdy boys. Perhaps in time, as they all grow up, the pains of a difficult childhood will leave them all and they can enjoy lives of fulfillment and happiness. As he watches Kit, he knows he has made the right choice in his successor of the lodging house. She will watch over her charges with compassion and with just the right amount of firmness wild runaways and orphans need.

The bright ding of the desk bell pulls Kloppman away from watching his new girls settle in. Coming down the stair, he sees a police officer dressed in a somber blue uniform waiting for him.

"Good evening. Are you the owner of the establishment?"

"I am. How can I help you?"

The officer pulls a sealed envelope from his coat pocket. "I was informed that a Miss Kitten Knight could be found here. I have some important documents for her."

Having been a lodging house owner for most of his life, Kloppman was able to read people to see what their intentions towards his charges were. He sensed no ill will towards Kit from this officer, but he was still hesitant. "If you'll just wait a moment, I'll get her for you."

Kloppman hurries up the stairs to fetch Kit. As they head down to the lobby he gives her a quick summary of what to expect. Kit looks at him wide eyed, wary of what this mysterious officer may want.

"Miss Knight?" The officer inquires when he sees her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes?" Kit's voice is small and fearful.

"I have here an envelope from Madame Whitefield's lawyer. He said this was to be given to you as soon as possible." He hands off the envelope, then tips his hat. "I bid you both good night."

As soon as the officer closed the front door behind him, Kit hurries over to the desk and tears open the envelope. At the very top of the packet of paper is a letter addressed directly to Kit.

_Ms. Knight, _

_Greetings. I am Adam Hastings, your late benefactor's lawyer. It was instructed to me by Madame Whitefield that upon the destruction of her High Street Orphanage, that her assets held by the bank were to be summarily given to you. All of the exact legal details are contained within her will, which I have included in this packet. You will find a letter of introduction to the bank manager, which will allow you access to Mdm. Whitefield's account and transfer them into a new one of your holding. If you have any trouble accessing this account, please come to me directly. I have also included a copy of the coroner's report, proving the death of Madame Ashworth._

_Sincerely, _

_Adam Hastings_

Kit looks up in surprise at Kloppman. "I've just inherited from Madame Whitefield. I'm not a poor orphan anymore." Her gaze turns back to the letter. The world feels as though it has tilted sideways. A whole new set of opportunities has opened before her. Never again would she have to struggle to support herself. It was a new, overwhelming feeling for her. Just a few pieces of paper changed her life.

Turning her attention back to Kloppman she says to him, "Tomorrow, we are going to go to the bank and get these accounts taken care of. Afterwards, we are going to work on making this the best lodging house in all of New York."


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

In the years after Kit received her life changing inheritance from Madame Whitefield, she held true to her promise and did indeed made the lodging house the best in all of New York. The entire building was renovated and modernized, providing ample space for the occupants she took care of. Dozens of children came to stay in her lodging house, seeking refuge from the tough streets they were living in. There was a warm place to sleep during the harsh winter nights, and plentiful food for hungry bellies.

With some of the money, she built a modest house for her ever growing family. After a few years of courtship, Racetrack and Kit were married. They were married in St. Gabriel's church in a small ceremony attended by their closest friends. Race was able to get a job down at the Sheepshead Racetrack taking bets and offering gambling advice to the scores of people that came to the races. He soon rose in status at the tracks, ending up as one of their con-crackers, in charge of identifying and bringing in cheats trying to swindle honest gamblers out of even more of their money.

Kloppman passed away peacefully surrounded by his boys and girls. The Newsies wept bitterly over the loss of their old friend and benefactor. He had been a solid rock for all of them in uncertain times. He had believed so strongly in their dreams. They buried him next to Madame Whitefield in the little cemetery of St. Gabriel's. Kit kept a photograph of him on the front desk in remembrance.

Many of the Newsies and Orpahnage girls went their own ways as soon as they were old enough and capable of supporting themselves. A few went out west, looking for something new. Everyone kept in touch through letters, announcing marriages and births. As the world changed, so did they, growing into respected individuals. New friends were surprised to discover the harsh childhoods these people endured. Though they no longer lived in fear of the next day, they never forgot where they came from.


End file.
